


What's in a name

by errantknightess



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awkward Flirting, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 22:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14091462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errantknightess/pseuds/errantknightess
Summary: Regulars having a different coffee every day are nothing unusual. It only gets weird when they give a different name with every order.





	What's in a name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittyBandit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyBandit/gifts).



The shop rustled with low chatter and clinking of cups, drowned out every now and then by a buzz from the espresso machine. It was slow, unusually so for this hour, but Allen wasn’t going to complain about a spare moment when he got one. The mess on the condiment shelf sorely needed his assistance – he had almost grabbed the wrong milk at least three times this morning. Now was the perfect time to put everything back in place.

Barely halfway through sorting out the dairy battlefield, the front door opened again, accompanied with the cheerful jingle of the bell overhead. Allen set the skim milk container down and turned around in a blink, schooling his face into his best customer service smile.

“Hey there,” said the guy on the other side of the counter, a tall redhead with an eyepatch over his right eye. Allen recognized him immediately; he had seen him in the shop pretty often, always chatting and joking around with the staff. He was kind of a regular, though Allen has never happened to take his order before.

“Good morning, what can I get you?” The phrase stumbled off his tongue with far less grace than he’d expect for all the times he’d said it today already. Something about his customer’s cheeky smile threw him, and Allen focused on it so much that he almost didn’t hear the reply.

“I’ll have a double shot macchiato, to go.” The redhead leaned against the counter to read off the blackboard on the back wall. A smattering of freckles across his nose alerted Allen as to just how close he was; he promptly took a step back and punched the order on the register, fixing his eyes firmly on the price display.

“That will be $3.75,” he announced before ducking to the side to ready the cup. “And can I have a name, please?”

The redhead hesitated for a split second, chewing uncertainly on his lip.

“Tiberius,” he blurted.

Allen didn’t bat an eyelid. He’s heard his fair share of unusual names – it came with the job. Judging by that brief pause, the guy wasn’t too eager to share it; maybe he was self-conscious? That wouldn’t be surprising. People were always quick to laugh at the dumbest things about others – something Allen was painfully familiar with, too.

He prepared the drink, veering off for a moment to take an order from a young woman hovering nervously near the counter while he waited for the milk to steam. The redhead stood to the side, eyeing him intently the whole time as if waiting for a reaction. Allen tried his best to ignore it, but still felt his movements grow uncomfortably awkward under the scrutiny.

“Macchiato for… Tiberius. Here you go.” This time, he made the smile on his mask a little less fake as he finally set the coffee down on the counter. “Thank you, and have a nice day.”

“Thanks, you too.” The redhead picked up the cup and gave him a little wave before he turned to the door. “See you ‘round!”

For a moment so brief he didn’t even realize it, Allen hoped he actually would.

 

***

The next day, things were back to normal and the morning rush hit the coffee shop like a storm wave. Allen struggled to keep up, making the drinks as quickly as the sluggish machines allowed. As soon as he clocked in, he’s been kept on his toes, head swelling with the constant stream of names. _Caramel latte. Alma. Double americano. Tyki. Iced mocha. Lena_. People and orders flashed by so fast that he barely had the time to register them all.

“This one’s mine.” A familiar voice broke through the noise around, startling him out of the daze. Allen raised his head, up and up, until his eyes stopped at the familiar face to match. It was the redhead from the day before – even in this chaos, he couldn’t mistake him for anyone else. The same eyepatch, same freckles, same cheeky smile.

Just one thing was different.

“Something wrong?” the redhead asked, leaning in to look at him more closely – _too close_. His hand brushed against Allen’s as he grabbed the cup, patiently waiting for Allen to let go of it.

“Umm, I…” Panicked, Allen peeked between his fingers at the name scribbled on the cardboard sleeve. “I think there was a mix-up. This is—“

“Medium cappuccino, right?” the redhead cut him off cheerfully. “For Norbert? That’s me.”

“Oh.” Allen quickly pulled his hand away, casting a confused look between the redhead and the cup. “Right. Sorry.”

“No worries.” The redhead grinned at him over the foam as he took a sip. “It’s a tough morning for all of us. Take care.”

Allen managed a small smile in return before whipping back to his duties. Apparently he needed a break – or a coffee of his own. He should have both when this madness lets up, he decided.

The skin on his hand still burned a little, and he wasn’t sure if it was the long grip on the hot cup, or the brief touch of the redhead’s hand that did it.

 

***

The next time he came in, Allen became absolutely convinced he was trolling him.

“Hi!” The greeting rose over the jangle of the bell, tearing through the sleepy afternoon silence. The redhead kicked the door shut and walked up to the counter with a cheerful spring in his step and that familiar cocky smirk on his face. The hardcover tucked under his arm clanged against the donut display as he leaned in to study the menu, squinting at the chalky swirls of Allen’s handwriting.

“Hello.” Allen stepped aside to let him see, eager to get his personal space back. “Please let me know when you’ve decided.”

“It’s a tough decision.” The redhead tapped his chin thoughtfully before turning to him, his grin even wider now. “What do you recommend?”

“Well… our regular espresso drinks are always popular.” Allen graced him with a smile of his own, a measured one, trying to get a read on him. “They’re good quality, fresh and strong. Or maybe you’d like to try something flavoured?”

“Sounds nice.” The redhead nodded with enthusiasm. “So, what’s _your_ favourite?”

Allen hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He usually tried to tailor his suggestions to what he knew of people’s tastes. Who cared about his personal opinion, anyway?

“As you said, it’s a tough choice,” he said with a nervous laughter. “But if I had to make it… Hazelnut latte. I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth. It’s still really good even if you don’t like sweets, though.”

“I’ll take this one, then. Can’t say no to sweet things.” The redhead gave him a long look, his only eye glinting impishly. Allen quickly averted his gaze, pointedly busying himself with the cash register.

“It’s going to take a while,” he warned.

The redhead shrugged and leaned his elbows on the counter, resting his head on his hand.

“Take your time. I don’t mind.”

Allen did mind a bit, though. With the redhead staring at him like that, it was hard to focus on what he was doing. He felt silly for being so nervous about things he’d done hundreds of times before, but the more he tried to hide it, the more flustered he got. The redhead’s hovering presence and something about the way he was looking at him kept distracting him with every move. After nearly burning himself and banging his elbow on the espresso machine twice, Allen’s nerves finally frayed.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” he turned to the redhead with an embarrassed smile, rubbing his sore arm. “Would you like to sit down in the meantime? The armchairs by the window are a nice reading spot.”

The redhead followed Allen’s gaze to the book in his arms and suddenly lit up.

“Nah, I’ve finished that already. Good stuff, by the way, have you read it? It’s Hesse.” He pulled the book out, holding it up for Allen to see, though even with how close he was standing, the faded letters were barely visible at all.

“ _Narcissus and Goldmund_?” Allen peered at the cover and looked back at the redhead with glee. “Yes, I know this one! Did you like it? It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s a masterpiece.” The redhead didn’t try to contain his excitement anymore, his eye shining as he moved even closer. “Okay, so the dichotomy of archetypes isn’t very subtle, but I like how it’s shown, you know? How they find harmony in their difference. It’s cool to see intellect and feelings presented as complementary instead of total opposites. I mean, things aren’t that clear-cut in reality too, right?”

“Right,” Allen agreed quickly, stunned only a little by the rapid stream of words hurled into his face. The guy talked like a research paper, but there was something oddly endearing in his fire – and something contagious. “I’m glad there wasn’t more conflict, too. It was very soothing to read. Very heartwarming. I liked how they learned from each other, even with their different ideas. That’s how real friends are.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” the redhead laughed shortly. “But I guess you’re right. They had a pretty damn strong bond – actually kinda scary how strong. Can you imagine letting one person have a hold on your thoughts for the rest of your life?”

“Of course I can!” Allen’s voice came out a bit louder than he intended. “That’s the best part of meeting people. They come and go, and you never know who will stay in your mind and continue to influence you even after they’re long gone. I think it’s wonderful.”

“I think it’s unsettling, but I’m not gonna argue with you.” The redhead put his hands in his pockets and measured him with a long glance and another of those crooked smirks. “So, I’d say you’re more of a Goldmund then, aren’t you?”

Allen shuffled his feet nervously. Was he really that easy to see through?

“I think so…” he admitted. “He’s got so much optimism and love for life, it’s hard not to get drawn to him.”

“True. Like a moth to a flame,” the redhead sighed. “Personally, I like to think I’m a healthy mix of both, but if I had to choose, I guess Narcissus is closer. Oh! Put that on the cup, will you?”

Allen’s eyes swept around the quiet room over the redhead’s shoulder.

“You’re the only person here. That’s not really necessary.”

“Yeah, but it’s nicer.” The redhead gave him a disarming smile. “A bit of a personal touch, how about that?”

“Fair enough.” Shaking his head with a laugh, Allen scribbled the name on the cup he had prepared. He really should count himself lucky that no one else had come in while he was distracted with this conversation. The redhead watched intently as he scrambled to finish the abandoned order, this time impeded by hurry rather than nerves. But even so, as he poured the foamed milk, Allen couldn’t help but take a moment to fuss with it a little.

“Is this…” The redhead’s eye went wide following Allen’s expert moves as he carefully dabbed at the milk spot with a toothpick. “Holy shit, it’s a bunny! Wow, you’ve got skills. That’s the second cutest thing I’ve seen today!”

“Just the second?” Allen slid the cup towards him, a teasing disappointment in his voice. “What was the first, then?”

The redhead looked up and blinked at him with an odd smile – and then left, nursing the cup in both hands like a treasure.

It didn’t hit Allen until closing time that the blink looked an awful lot like a _wink_.

 

***

It went on for a better part of two months. The redhead would come in almost every day during Allen’s shift, always so full of energy that the caffeine he took in seemed completely redundant. His presence worked like a warm cup of coffee on Allen, too. The guy put him on alert every time he dropped by – there was no telling what ridiculousness he would throw at him any given day.

In rush hours, they barely had a moment to exchange a quick greeting and a joke, but whenever they day was slow, he would linger and chitchat, leaning over the counter to meet Allen’s eyes as he worked. There was no end to his chattering, no subject left untouched. Allen particularly liked when he talked about the books he’s been reading – whether he recommended or bashed them, there was always a spark in his eye and eagerness in his voice that made it all the more fun to listen. Soon, they started to trade suggestions – books for drinks, yet another thing to keep Allen on the ball. Most of the regulars had their usual favourite orders, but the redhead changed his with every visit.

Along with his name.

There was no rhyme or reason to them, no matter how hard Allen tried to figure it out. Ragnar, Ebenezer, Leon, Irfan, Świebąd – how was he even supposed to _spell_ that? It was like the redhead was going wild through every book of baby names ever published. Allen had to wonder when he would run out of ideas. All of the names he used were either foreign or plain weird, and he never gave the same one twice – Allen kept count. Today, it reached forty-eight and started to tick him off a bit.

“You spelled it wrong, you know,” the redhead pointed out, tapping at the _Dick_ written across his cup in Allen’s neat handwriting. “It’s actually _D-E-A-K_.”

“Does it really matter?” Allen levelled an unfazed glance at him. “You’re going to throw it away anyway.”

It just didn’t sit right with him. Despite all his friendly talk and open gestures, this one thing made something about the redhead feel _wrong_. Fake. It put a distance between them, and it grew more and more frustrating now that Allen has realized how much he wanted to bridge it.

“Touché,” the redhead laughed. “I guess I brought it on myself. See you tomorrow!”

 

And sure enough he did, prancing in like usual the next day and grinning widely as soon as Allen turned around to greet him. His elbows thudded against the counter as he leaned in, boring into Allen with a wicked look.

It would have been hard to keep the snark out of his voice – if Allen even bothered to _try_.

“What will it be today?”

The redhead hummed hesitantly, his eye narrowing.

“As for the order, I’m not sure yet. As for the name… Can I have yours?”

“It’s right here.” Allen prodded at his own chest, pointing to the tiny print on his nametag. “My _actual_ name, you know. Not all of us are compelled to make up dozens of aliases. What are you, a spy?”

The redhead chuckled, and damn, it was hard to stay cross with him.

“Maybe I am!” He slid even closer, theatrically lowering his voice in the silence of the empty shop. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m on a top secret mission here. I have my eye on a certain white-haired barista… He makes criminally good coffee and has an illegally cute smile, so the matter is quite serious.”

“Well…” Allen let out a chuckle of his own, a nervous one, his cheeks flooding with red warmth. “You’re a pretty lousy spy, then. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to attract your target’s attention.”

“That’s exactly what my mission was,” the redhead corrected smugly. “And now that it’s a success, can I buy you a celebratory coffee?”

“Sure.” This time, Allen’s laugh was louder and genuine. “So what would you like?”

“Two hazelnut lattes, please.” The reply came instantly, the redhead’s eye lighting up with glee. “And make that out for Lavi.”

Allen measured him with a playful look over the register, but his smile turned sharper at the edge.

“I like this one. Shame you’re going to change it again tomorrow.”

“Nah.” Lavi shrugged, meeting his gaze with unexpected sincerity. “I'll stick with it.”


End file.
